


That Summer Feeling is Gonna Haunt You

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, So much pining it's ridiculous, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: It would be so easy, David thought, to lean over him, to brace himself on the ground on either side of Patrick’s head, to kiss him, to run his hands along Patrick’s cool, damp skin.He closed his eyes, pushing the image out of his mind, and laid back next to Patrick, for once not caring if sand got in his hair or on his clothes.It was enough, he’d decided, to have Patrick in his life again, just as a friend. It would have to be.Or, the Summer Camp AU where, after his family loses their money, David is forced to return to his childhood summer camp as a counselor, and he runs into an old friend.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel
Comments: 164
Kudos: 257





	1. Summer One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete, consists of 3 chapters and a short epilogue, and will be posted intermittently over the next several days. And of course, there is [a companion playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/70Qq86aV6b1K4JeiFejDCv?si=3F_j6E4fS_GFreNzIZQxwA), because it wouldn't be one of my AUs without one. 
> 
> This fic is for Cali, who has been a cheerleader for my writing since day 1 and was instrumental in seeing this one come to life. The camp in this story is named after the camp that we both went to as kids, a fact we only discovered while I was writing this. We weren’t there at the same time, but it was a nice surprise to know we had this shared history and became friends so many years later. Thank you for beta reading and for being an incredible friend overall. This never would have gotten finished without you!
> 
> Title is taken from "That Summer Feeling" by Jonathan Richman.

David heaved a sigh as his cab bumped down the long, dusty drive to the camp property, grimacing as the sign came into view. 

“Good old Camp Tamarack,” his cab driver murmured, pulling to a stop just outside the gates. “I used to come here as a kid.”

“Mmm,” David hummed. “Me too.” He could feel his driver looking at him in the rearview mirror, but couldn’t bring himself to meet his eye. The mustachioed driver- Ron, or maybe it was Ray?- had talked non stop the entire trip, and David was already exhausted even though it was barely 10am. 

“And now you’re back as a counselor?”

“Unfortunately,” David sighed again, finally unclicking his seatbelt and moving to grab his bags from the trunk. 

“Well. You don’t sound happy about it, but I hope you have a great summer, anyway!” the driver called cheerfully, honking his horn as he drove away. David waved half-heartedly, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and trudging up the path. 

It’d been years since he’d been back, but he’d spent so many summers as a child wandering the dirt pathways between the cabins and rec center and mess hall that muscle memory took over. Not much had changed since the last time he was there; a few of the cabins had a new coat of paint, but everything else was the same as he remembered, even the smells. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the familiar scents- sharp, sweet pine trees and rich, loamy dirt and earthy lake water. It was comforting, he thought, that some things remained the same even when the rest of his life had been turned upside down. 

The campers wouldn’t arrive for another week, so the grounds were quiet with just staff milling around. David made his way to the mess hall, where registration was taking place. There were only a handful of people inside, and one guy ahead of him in line to register, whom David eyed appreciatively as he bent over the table to fill out his paperwork. He was wearing a short-sleeved button up shirt, the nautical pattern of which was, in David’s opinion,frankly obnoxious, and jeans that were rolled and cuffed well above his ankle. Normally, David would deem everything about this look incorrect, but it worked for him- at least from behind. 

David quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be inspecting his cuticles when the guy straightened up and turned towards him. 

“David? Is that you?” 

David physically started upon hearing his name, and looked up again to see the guy pushing his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head and squinting at him. 

_ Holy shit. It’s Patrick Brewer, _ David thought. Or at least, he  _ thought  _ he’d only thought it. 

“Hell yeah it is! How are you, man?” Before David could fully process what was happening, Patrick was pulling him into a hug. David patted his back awkwardly, trying not to think about the muscles he could feel under his hands or the way Patrick’s chin tucked into the crook of his neck or the way his own heart was pounding and his mouth had gone dry. 

Patrick Brewer had attended Camp Tamarack as a kid, just like David. Patrick Brewer had been his bunkmate every summer for six years, and had been his best friend until they lost touch after they stopped going to camp in high school. Patrick Brewer had also been David’s first real crush, and David had spent the formative years of his life madly, hopelessly in love with him. 

* * *

“I don’t understand  _ why  _ I have to go to summer camp,” David whined for what was probably the 20th time, as Adelina packed his suitcase. 

“I’ve told you, sweetheart. Your parents have to be away this summer so your mom can shoot her movie, and I have to be with my own family. My sister is very sick and she needs me.” 

“But what if  _ I  _ need you?” David’s lower lip wobbled, and he tried not to cry, because crying was for babies and he was eight years old and decidedly not a baby anymore. Adelina sighed, pausing in her chore to crouch down in front of him, cupping his face gently in her hands. 

“David, you are going to be so busy having fun at camp that you won’t even be thinking of me. I promise. And I will be here for you when you get back.” 

Adelina had been right, of course. She always was. But it wasn’t love at first sight for David- at least not with Camp Tamarack itself. 

The rustic cabins with their splintery bunk beds and scratchy wool blankets were a world away from the luxury he’d grown up in. The other boys in his cabin had started going to camp the year prior, and all seemed to know each other already. They were  _ nice  _ enough, sure, introducing themselves as they unpacked their bags and claimed their bunks-Ted, Mutt, Sebastien, and Jake- but then they’d all run off, shoving each other and horsing around, leaving David alone. 

He set his bag at the foot of the bottom bunk of the only bed that hadn’t been claimed yet, and gingerly sat down after inspecting the blanket carefully and finding it satisfactorily clean. 

Drawing a shaky breath, David pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his face in the crook of his elbow, and willed himself not to cry. But then he cried anyway, cried the way he hadn’t in years, hot tears spilling out until he was hiccuping. He missed Adelina and his parents and even his baby sister, who was too young to go to camp and got to be watched by the on-set nanny for Sunrise Bay: The Movie. He was scared to be here, surrounded by strangers. He didn’t know how to make friends and didn’t know how to swim and was terrified that moths would get into the cabin through the holey screen doors. It was all just  _ too much.  _

“Are you  _ crying _ ?” David jumped at the unexpected voice, which had asked the question in a way that seemed like the asker was actually concerned. Wiping his face and sniffling, David looked up to see another boy around his age that he hadn’t met yet, standing warily in the doorway of the cabin. 

“No,” David muttered. “I’m not  _ crying _ . I have allergies.” 

“Huh,” the boy said, approaching slowly. “Well it  _ seems  _ like you were crying. And if you were, I was going to say that it was okay, because I cried every day my first week here last summer.” 

David felt his eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?” 

The boy nodded, smiling as he climbed the rungs to the top bunk of David’s bed, setting his bag there before jumping back down to stand in front of him. He had a round face and big brown eyes and a mass of unruly curls on top of his head. 

“I’m Patrick,” he said, grinning as he stuck his hand out. David stared at it for a moment-  _ what kind of 8-year-old shakes hands?-  _ before grabbing it gingerly. 

“David.” 

“Nice to meet you David. You better come with me, and hurry up. Dinner is starting soon and you don’t want to let the tater tots get cold.” 

And so David had a friend. Sure, they’d bonded over being crybabies and seemed to have nothing else in common- Patrick loved sports and swimming in the lake and was an only child to parents who didn’t have a nanny and his favorite subject in school was math- but it worked, for some reason. Patrick showed him the ropes, taught him which counselors would be more lenient on things like lights-out curfew, helped him learn which campers to avoid. That first night in their cabin, Patrick even trapped a moth that David had spotted crawling along his bunk, and didn’t even laugh when David had shrieked and been sent running. 

“It’s okay, David! I’ve got it,” he said, an easy smile on his face as he gently cupped his hands around it and released it out the cabin door. The other boys in the cabin were doubled over in laughter, and David felt his face burning. 

“You’re afraid of  _ moths?”  _ Sebastien said, voice dripping with derision from his bunk, which was across from David’s. “What else are you afraid of? Butterflies?” The other boys roared with laughter- except for Patrick. 

“Shut up, Sebastien,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes as he climbed back into his bunk. “You cried last summer because a frog peed on your hand.” 

It was Sebastien’s turn to blush, and David stuck his tongue out at him cheekily as he climbed back into his bed. 

The lights were turned off a short time later. 

“Thank you, Patrick,” David murmured into the dark, unsure if he was still awake or if he’d said it loudly enough to be heard. 

“Goodnight, David,” he answered back a moment later. David turned his head, smiling into his pillow as the cabin was filled with the soft sounds of the other boys’ breathing. It was nice, he thought, to have a friend. 

By the end of that first week, David had written his parents to tell him he wanted to come back the following summer. Soon enough, the summers spent at Camp Tamarack- with Patrick- were the best part of David’s life every year. 

* * *

“I honestly can’t believe you’re here,” Patrick said, releasing David with a clap on the back. “What was it you said, that last summer? You’d rather die than ever come back to Tamarack?” His eyes were glinting mischievously, and David felt himself biting back a smile. 

“I’ll have you know I only came back under extreme duress,” he said loftily, turning from Patrick to fill out his registration paperwork. 

“Is that so? You’ll have to tell me all about it.” 

“Wait. You really haven’t heard?” David turned to look back at him, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. He was certain  _ everyone  _ had heard about the Rose family, their sudden fall from grace caused by a backstabbing business manager, forcing David to get a summer job so he could afford the costs not covered by his scholarship at school. When he saw the job posting for Camp Tamarack looking for a counselor to run the art programming, he jumped at the chance to go upstate and get out of the city for the summer. 

It was a 10-week gig; there were three two-week camp sessions with a week’s break in between, as well as one week before campers arrived to set up and one week after they cleared out to close down. It wasn’t exactly the Hamptons, but it was better than subletting a 2-bedroom apartment in Jersey City with four roommates and waiting tables all summer. 

Patrick shrugged, affably nonplussed. “I guess we have a lot to catch up on, David.” 

David finished filling out his paperwork and stepped back to look at Patrick, really  _ look  _ at him. He’d always been a cute kid; round-faced and wide-eyed, a slight gap between his two front teeth and curly hair that he wore slightly too long, constantly falling over his forehead. But now...well. Suffice it to say the passage of time had been kind, sharpening the angles of his face, his baby fat transformed into a stockier, more well-toned build that filled out his clothing  _ very  _ nicely. He still had that wholesome, corn-fed look to him, all wide-eyed and earnest, but was now decidedly more  _ handsome  _ than  _ cute.  _

“I guess so,” David replied softly, picking his bags up from the ground where he’d set them in order to fill out his paperwork. 

“Do you want to bunk with me?” Patrick asked as he gathered his own bags. “For old times’ sake?” He was grinning at David, sunglasses back on his face. 

David’s chest ached, thinking about all those summers of adolescent longing, pondering whether it was a good idea to share such intimate space with Patrick all summer. The campers’ cabins were incredibly basic; just open-concept rooms with three bunk beds, sleeping six campers. The counselor cabins, however, were  _ slightly  _ nicer. Each one came equipped with indoor plumbing, a basic living space with an outdated television and VCR setup, and a small kitchenette, in addition to the single set of bunks, sleeping two counselors to a cabin. All of which would result in  _ a lot  _ of one-on-one time with Patrick. 

He could be mature about it, David decided. Besides, his feelings for Patrick had long since dissipated, his childhood crush relegated to nothing more than a fond memory. 

“Sure,” David nodded, starting to follow Patrick and then stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed the black carrying case in one of his hands. “Oh god, what is  _ that?”  _

“This?” Patrick asked, raising the object in question, a grin on his face. “It’s an acoustic guitar, David. People use them to play music.” 

“Oh,” David said weakly. “And do  _ you?  _ Use it to play music?” 

Patrick outright laughed at him now. “I’ve been known to, on occasion. And I thought I might use it to play music at the counselor talent show.” David had forgotten about those, the cringey talent shows put on by the counselors at the end of the summer, the last night before everyone headed back home for the fall. 

David groaned, envisioning enduring long nights of listening to Patrick unskillfully pluck his way through Oasis covers. 

Certainly, he could survive 10 weeks sharing a space with Patrick without falling head over heels in love with him again. The fact that Patrick was  _ an aspiring musician  _ would only make it easier. Right? 

  
  


Wrong, it turned out. David had been so,  _ so  _ wrong, and it didn’t take long for him to realize just how wrong he was. A couple of weeks into the first camp session, David found himself leaning in the doorway of the rec center, staring as Patrick led the campers in a game of dodgeball. He was laughing, his head thrown back as he jumped out of the way of the balls being hurled in his direction. David was right back to feeling like he did at the age of 12, except instead of an innocent crush on his pudgy, round-faced camp friend, he found himself having some incredibly inappropriate thoughts about the man in front of him. Patrick was wearing a Camp Tamarack tank top, his shoulders freckled and sunburnt and sweaty under the midday sun. His curls were hidden under a backwards baseball cap, sunglasses perched on his face. He was wearing  _ cargo shorts,  _ for God’s sake. None of this should be working for David- the whole fratty, outdoorsy look was  _ not  _ his thing. And yet. 

He was reminded of the summers years before, his own days of playing dodgeball as a camper. David loathed the outdoor activities then just as much as he did now. 

He’d stood on the sidelines, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, the sun beating mercilessly down onto his shoulders. For some reason, back then, camp staff would allow for campers to be team captains and pick their teammates. (In these modern times, counselors split the teams to avoid encouraging the favoritism and bullying that middle schoolers were so adept at.) Nobody ever wanted David on their team, understandably; to say he was unathletic was being generous. This coupled with being consistently picked last for teams quickly squashed any interest he may have harbored for team sports, so he would always put the minimum amount of effort in, hoping to get tagged out quickly. 

Except for the occasions Patrick was made captain. David was surprised, the first time it happened. Patrick hadn’t hesitated at all when it was his turn to pick his first teammate. “David,” he’d said clearly, and David’s head had snapped in his direction. Patrick waved him over impatiently when David didn’t move. 

“Are you sure?” he said quietly, when he finally went to stand next to him. “I know I’m not good, you didn’t have to pick me.”

“I know I didn’t  _ have _ to,” Patrick had shrugged, like it was nothing at all. “You’re my best friend. I want you on my team.” True to form, David had been tagged out almost immediately, but Patrick continued picking him first every time he was made captain. 

“David!” He was snapped out of his trip down memory lane by the sound of Patrick’s voice, and tried to school his features into a neutral expression as Patrick jogged towards him, chest heaving from exertion. “Can I have some of that?” Patrick nodded towards the bottle of water David had dangling from his fingers. 

“Umm,” David hesitated, feeling his face scrunching up in disgust. “I don’t really share drinks with people, generally speaking.”

“Oh, come on,” Patrick panted, taking his sunglasses off and pushing his hat back to wipe his forehead dramatically. “I’m so hot. I’m dying of thirst.” 

“Mmm, you are, are you?” David replied flatly, averting his gaze as Patrick licked his lips to demonstrate how dry they were. 

“I really am,” Patrick pleaded, a grin on his face now, his fingers covering David’s as he gently tried to wrestle the bottle from his grip. David reluctantly handed it over, his own mouth going dry as he watched Patrick drink, eyes glued to the column of his throat. 

“Thanks.” Patrick  _ winked  _ as he handed the bottle back to David, wiping perspiration and dribbles of water from his chin. David grimaced, making a show of wiping the lip of the bottle before replacing the cap. 

“My mouth is clean,” Patrick scoffed defensively. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, thanks so much,” David replied. Patrick laughed, turning back to the game and leaving David feeling very off-kilter, like he’d been hit over the head with a hammer. 

He’d been pleasantly surprised at how easily he and Patrick had fallen back into their friendship over the last several weeks. They caught each other up on the things they’d missed in their years apart; Patrick seemed genuinely sorry to hear about the demise of the Rose empire but admitted he was grateful it had brought them back together. 

“I always wondered what happened to you,” he’d said softly that first night after they’d settled into their respective bunks. “I would sometimes think up these scenarios of running into you at the grocery store, or you getting transferred to my school. Stupid things like that.” Something warm blossomed in David’s chest as he assured Patrick it wasn’t stupid, feeling almost giddy with the knowledge that Patrick had missed him just as much as he’d missed Patrick over the years. 

Patrick told David about his business classes, his dreams about someday being an entrepreneur. David told him how he hoped to be a gallerist or do  _ something  _ artistic and creative and worthwhile. He told Patrick things he’d never told people before, verbalizing his hopes and fears in such a way that he never had, because no one else had ever really asked or bothered to listen. He told Patrick about high school, cracking self-deprecating jokes about his candy raver phase. Patrick told him about playing varsity baseball and being the lead in the musical his senior year. David teased him about wearing baseball pants and Patrick volleyed back witticisms about asymmetrical haircuts. Being with Patrick again felt easy, like something had finally clicked back into place after years of running off track. It felt familiar and safe, especially after the recent turmoil that had upended David’s entire life. It felt, David realized, like going back home. 

And as the days passed David found that old familiar pull returning, his desire for something more than friendship with Patrick. It wasn’t that Patrick had shed his baby fat and finally grown into his ears and still smiled at him crookedly- which, okay, yes, those were all  _ part  _ of it, David was only human and couldn’t argue with the laws of attraction, or biology, or whatever caveman part of his brain made him want to lick Patrick’s neck. But in their years apart, David had forgotten how  _ kind  _ Patrick was, how good, how patient, how funny. He’d forgotten that Patrick wheezed when he laughed and always ate his s’mores with peanut butter cups instead of plain chocolate and wrote to his parents once a week like clockwork. 

He’d also forgotten how casually, teasingly affectionate Patrick could be, or maybe it was something new; he’d clap David on the back as he passed by, flick him on the ear just to annoy him, reach up and fix a stray hair that had gone askew. He would prop his socked feet in David’s lap when they settled onto the small couch in their cabin to watch a grainy old VHS movie, or wordlessly tuck a flannel blanket across David’s shoulders as he shivered next to the campfire. Each of these little touches sent David’s heart into a frenzy, and he was worried that he’d go into cardiac arrest before the end of the summer. 

In all of their late-night talks, David would sometimes joke about his frankly tragic romantic history, and Patrick would laugh sympathetically but never reciprocate. David was starting to wonder if Patrick just didn’t have any stories to share, and was tempted to ask him outright whether he was dating anyone, until one morning the question was answered for him. 

“Someone’s popular,” David teased, nodding towards the stack of letters and postcards Patrick was opening over breakfast. 

Patrick rolled his eyes, tips of his ears going pink. “They’re all from Rachel. She’s studying abroad this summer and writes to me every day, but doesn’t get a chance to send them out very often so a bunch go out at once.” 

David choked on his orange juice. “Rachel? Like,  _ Rachel  _ Rachel? Cute little redhead who was always flirting with you, that Rachel?” 

Rachel, like Patrick and David, had attended Camp Tamarack every summer until high school started. The last year or so of camp, everyone started to pair off, flirting and engaging in drama the way only barely-pubescent adolescents could. Rachel had her sights set on Patrick from early on, and who could blame her? 

David remembered resenting her deeply, that last summer. It was unfair, in retrospect. She was sweet and funny and adorable, and Patrick seemed to like her. But in young David’s mind, she was horning in on their friendship, always tagging along during their free time and sitting with them at meals and asking Patrick to partner up during activities before David had the chance. 

“Yes, that Rachel…” Patrick replied slowly, his head tilted slightly in confusion. 

“I just, um.” David cleared his throat, waving a hand in dismissal. “I didn’t realize you were still in touch.” 

Patrick laughed. “I should hope we were. I mean, we’re still dating, so.” 

David felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his head. “Wait.  _ Still? _ You’ve been together since that last summer of camp?” David’s mind was reeling. They’d been sharing a cabin for weeks now, and Patrick had never  _ once  _ mentioned that he had a girlfriend, much less that it was their old friend Rachel. 

“I mean,” Patrick shrugged, picking up his fork and talking around a mouth full of eggs, which,  _ ew _ . “We’ve broken up a few times over the years but I guess we always just...fall back into it.” 

“Mm. Sounds romantic,” David quipped, focusing on his own plate and ignoring the jealousy currently attempting to claw its way out of his chest. “So what, you're… high school sweethearts? Does she have your letter jacket? Gonna take her to the sock hop and ask her to get married?” 

Patrick looked at his own plate, pushing his food around, expression suddenly serious, and David got the feeling he’d said something wrong. “She’d like that,” Patrick finally answered, voice hollow. 

David should stop pushing, he knew. Clearly, this subject wasn’t something Patrick was comfortable with. But as it often did, David found his mouth speaking without his brain’s permission, and the question was out before he could stop himself. 

“And you wouldn’t?” 

Patrick stilled, eyes fixed on his plate, broad shoulders tense and pulled up nearly to his ears. The silence stretched on for a moment, and David was about to awkwardly change the subject or flee the building or start a fire to escape it when Patrick finally answered. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “I just think we’re too young to make that kind of commitment.” 

“Oh,” David murmured, unsure how to respond to that. 

“Anyway,” Patrick’s expression cleared as he nodded to the letter David had received, obviously eager to change the subject. “Who’s that from?” 

David felt a smile blooming across his face in spite of himself. “This is from Stevie,” he said, turning the envelope in his hands. 

Patrick raised his eyes expectantly, waiting for further explanation. 

“We go to school together. She’s probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend. Aside from you.” David realized it was true only as he said it out loud. Stevie was gorgeous and funny and sarcastic, and prone to avoiding human emotion at all costs. But she saw David in a way almost no one else had before- other than Patrick. He missed her terribly, had tried to convince her to work at the camp with him, but she was spending her summer, as always, working at her family’s motel in her hometown. He’d asked her to write to him, and she’d rolled her eyes, said she’d think about it if she got bored enough. They’d been at camp for a month and he’d received five letters from her, so she was either incredibly bored or missed him just as much as he missed her. 

“Ah,” Patrick said, nodding. “She must be pretty special in order to usurp the best friend role from me.” 

“Okay,” David said, playfully defensive. “Up until a month ago, you and I hadn’t spoken in literal years. I think it’s reasonable for me to find at least one friend to fill the gaping void in my life.” 

“Aw. I missed you too, David.” Patrick teased, getting up from the table to clear his tray. 

_ You have no idea, _ David thought miserably. 

He did his best to keep his feelings in check after that, hold himself back slightly, but if Patrick noticed any change in David’s behavior, he didn’t mention it. David had been under no illusions that Patrick would make any sudden declarations of love, but something about  _ knowing  _ he practically had a fiancée made David much more cognizant of trying to maintain boundaries. He’d lost touch with Patrick once before; he couldn’t risk making him uncomfortable and losing him again. 

* * *

One of Camp Tamarack’s oldest- and cringiest, in David’s opinion- customs was The Nickname. More beloved tradition than actual requirement, it was expected that each counselor would have a nickname, either self-appointed or bestowed upon them by the campers. Patrick, of course, embraced it wholeheartedly, delighted to be referred to as Peanut Butter (and many derivatives including Peanut Butter Patty, PB&J, Peanut, etc.) as soon as the first wave of campers learned his initials. David, however, was much more reticent, and gently rebuffed the many attempts at nicknaming- most of which were led by Patrick. 

“What about Bowie?” he tried one afternoon over lunch. David narrowed his eyes at him, refusing to respond to such a suggestion. 

“Michelangelo?” he helpfully supplied as he helped David sweep up the art room. David snorted inelegantly as Patrick dramatically struck the pose of the famed David statue, and Patrick laughed in delight, color high on his cheeks. 

The suggestions got more and more ridiculous as time went on, and David thanked his lucky stars that the campers never caught wind of any of them and they never stuck- at least, not at first. 

He stumbled into the mess hall halfway through breakfast one morning, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he clambered onto the picnic-style table next to Patrick. He was, as usual, surrounded by campers on all sides, but thoughtfully saved David a seat next to him, as he did every morning.

“Morning, sunshine,” he smirked, pushing a cup of coffee towards David. David squinted at him blearily.

“ _ Sunshine?”  _ one of the campers laughed- a loud girl named Brie who followed Patrick around like a lost puppy. “Is that your nickname now?”

Patrick grinned wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oooh, I think that could work!” 

“Oh, no. Absolutely not,” David shook his head frantically, eyes widening as Brie nudged the girl next to her, giggling. 

“His nickname is Sunshine now.” 

David sighed, knowing it would be all over the camp before lunch time. 

“You’re going to pay for this, Peanut,” he warned, pointing a finger at Patrick accusingly. 

“Sorry,” Patrick grimaced, his twinkling eyes betraying the fact that he wasn’t sorry whatsoever, and David was surprised to find that he didn’t even really mind the nickname after all. 

* * *

“Looks like it’s gonna get pretty bad tonight, huh?” 

David turned from the screen door of the cabin, where he’d been watching storm clouds rolling in since after dinner. Patrick was leaning up against the bunk beds, arms crossed. He was already dressed for bed, his white cotton-blend t shirt accentuating his arms, his too-long plaid pajama pants pooled around his slippered feet. 

“Yeah. It should start any minute now,” David replied, willing himself to not let his gaze linger. 

The air felt heavy and charged in the way only summer storms can, humid and close, just waiting for the sky to open up. 

As if on cue, a peal of thunder rolled in the distance, the kind that shook the ground and made your very bones feel like they were vibrating. David watched as the color drained from Patrick’s face and he bit his lip nervously. 

“Wait- are you still afraid of thunderstorms?” David asked, suddenly remembering Patrick’s childhood fear. He had a vivid flashback of Patrick huddled on his bunk, face pale and and trembling as thunder roared overhead. It was the only time he’d ever seen him afraid, in all his years of knowing him. 

“I’m not  _ afraid  _ of them,” he responded defensively, drawing David back to the present. “They just make me...uneasy.” 

David smiled sympathetically, patting him on the shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Patrick shrugged him off irritably, climbing into his bunk. “Don’t be patronizing, David.” 

“Do you need me to hold your hand? Sing you to sleep?” David laughed, switching the overhead light off and getting into his own bed.

“Goodnight, David,” Patrick said evenly, refusing to take the bait. 

“Goodnight, Patrick,” David responded quietly, smiling to himself in the dark, drifting off to sleep to the sounds of rain and gently rolling thunder. 

  
  


“ _ Fuck!” _

David woke out of dead sleep, disoriented and unsure if it was minutes or hours or days later, startled by Patrick’s voice in the night. 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” David sat up, blinking blearily, heart pounding as Patrick jumped down from the top bunk.

“There’s a leak in the ceiling! My bed is soaked.” 

“Oh, Jesus. I thought you were being murdered!” David said irritably, rolling back over, pulling the blanket over his head. Even in the dark and facing the other way, David could feel Patrick glaring at him. 

“Nope! Just covered in disgusting rain-and-cabin-roof water. Do you think you can look for a bucket so I can change into something dry and look for some extra blankets?”

David groaned, but swung his legs out of the bunk and flipped on the light, heading towards the bathroom. He could hear drawers being pulled open and slammed shut, Patrick muttering irritably about needing to do laundry. It wasn’t funny, David knew, but something about seeing Patrick- usually so level-headed and even-keeled- thrown so off-kilter was somewhat amusing to David.

He came out a few minutes later, brandishing the bathroom trash can. “No bucket, but this will have to do.” He stopped in his tracks, watching as Patrick- now shirtless, apparently having been unable to find a clean shirt to change into- spread a blanket on the floor next to their bunk. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, David? I’m setting up to sleep on the floor since my bunk and the couch are both saturated thanks to the leaks in the ceiling.” Patrick grabbed the trash can from David and set it on the top bunk, where the ceiling was dripping steadily. He had pushed the couch out of the way of the second, smaller leak, placing a pot from the kitchenette underneath it. 

“You can’t sleep on the floor!” David was horrified. “It’s disgusting. And hard.” 

Patrick stared at him, and David felt himself flush as he replayed his words back in his head. 

“Okay, well. I’m open to suggestions, David, but I don’t see what other choice I have. I’ll have to get maintenance here tomorrow to fix the roof, but I’m not sleeping in a wet bed or couch.” 

“I-- well. You can sleep with me. In my bed, I mean.” The words were out of David’s mouth before he could think things through, consider the implications of squeezing into a tiny twin bed with his presumably very straight best friend whom he’d spent most of his life half in love with. 

The air felt like it was sucked out of the room for a moment, the rolling thunder the only thing breaking the silence.  _ So much for maintaining boundaries,  _ he thought. 

Patrick’s mouth was dropped open slightly, his face bright pink. “That’s not- David, the floor is fine,” he said finally. 

“Just get in here and stop whining,” David muttered, lifting the covers of his bunk and scooting as far back towards the wall as possible. Finally relenting, Patrick turned off the overhead light and clambered in, and David quickly realized it would be impossible not to touch him in the cramped space.

Keeping his distance as much as possible, David settled under the covers, Patrick laying on his side next to him. 

Another crack of thunder shook the cabin just as David was getting ready to drift off to sleep, and he could feel Patrick trembling beside him. Tentatively, he reached a hand out and placed it on Patrick’s bare shoulder. 

“Hey. Are you okay? You’re shaking.” He could see Patrick nodding jerkily in the dark, illuminated for a moment by a flash of lightning. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but he flinched as it thundered again. 

“Okay,” David said softly. “Well. Even if you’re fine, I think I’m going to just talk to you until you fall asleep. Would that be okay?”

Patrick hesitated for a moment, then nodded again, turning to face David. “Sure,” he said, barely above a whisper. 

And so David started talking quietly, whispering to Patrick under cover of darkness, his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above Patrick’s collarbone. Even if pressed, David wouldn’t be able to recall what he talked about that night. All that mattered was that, eventually, Patrick’s breathing evened out, his trembling stopped, and his brow relaxed as he fell asleep.

The next day dawned cool and damp, and David awoke earlier than usual to the sounds of birds chirping and water dripping and feeling the long line of heat where Patrick was pressed to his side. During the night, David had moved to lay on his back and at some point Patrick had moved even closer toward him,one leg thrown over David’s, face tucked into the hollow of his neck. His warm, sleep-even breaths ghosted across David’s skin, causing goosebumps to erupt. 

David so badly wanted to smooth Patrick’s curls away from his forehead and press a kiss there, to swipe his thumb across his lips and his cheekbone, to know what his lips would feel like, taste like, even with morning breath, and -- oh god. David could  _ feel  _ Patrick against his leg, which was in turn making him get hard, and-- this was a disaster. He needed to extract himself from Patrick’s grip without waking him and in turn embarrassing the both of them, except- too late. David glanced down to find those big brown doe-eyes staring at him, then widening as Patrick’s face flushed and he rolled away from him. 

“Sorry, David. I must have...Gotten cold? In the middle of the night,” Patrick said frantically, climbing out of the bunk and trying- and failing- to subtly hide his  _ situation.  _

David sat up, clutching the covers to his chest like a scandalized lady in a rom-com, suddenly bowled over by the absurdity of it all. 

“I didn’t realize you were a cuddler,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep a straight face. “If I had, I would have let you sleep on the floor.” 

“Shut up,” Patrick retorted, pointing at David with the hand that wasn’t hovering over his crotch, a grin threatening to spill out of the corner of his mouth as he retreated to the bathroom. David slumped against the pillows, covering his face with his hands as he heard the shower turn on. It was nothing, he knew- just a natural occurrence, basic biology. He did his best to push it from his mind, but he couldn’t soon forget the heat of Patrick’s skin pressed against his, the warmth of his breath tickling David’s face, and the sound of Patrick’s heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest, in time with David’s own.

* * *

“Okay kids,” David clapped his hands together, turning to face the campers grouped around the tables in the craft room. The door to the room opened and Patrick slipped inside, grinning at David and parking himself at a table at the back of the room. 

Shaking his head slightly, David continued. “Today we’re going to be making friendship bracelets. You can pair up with whomever your camp bestie is, and pick their favorite colors, and then trade bracelets with them at the end of class.” 

David moved throughout the room, demonstrating to the campers how to braid the plasticky threads together, pointedly ignoring Patrick watching him from the back of the room. He fought against the smile he felt blooming on his face. 

Patrick did this, sometimes; just hung out while David taught arts and crafts, smiling from the back of the room like simply being in David’s presence made him happy. 

“Sunshine?” David rolled his eyes before he turned to the sound of a small voice at his elbow, schooling his facial features. The voice belonged to a camper named Tommy, a shy kid who mostly kept to himself. 

“What’s up?” David crouched slightly to be at his level. 

“Can I sit this activity out? Or maybe do something else? I don’t have a camp bestie.” Tommy scuffed his toes on the floor, not meeting David’s eye. 

“Oh,” David said quietly, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest. “Well. Why don’t you partner up with me?”

Tommy looked up at him from under the dark flop of bangs across his forehead, a tentative smile on his lips. “Really?”

David nodded, going back to his table at the front of the room and pulling more bracelet supplies out. “Pick a couple colors out. We’ll work on one together.” Tommy grinned at him fully, considering his choices, and David glanced to the back of the room to see Patrick watching him carefully. 

_ What?  _ he mouthed, but Patrick just shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and went back to whatever he was working on at the table in front of him. 

David spent the next half hour watching Tommy braid a bracelet in purple and orange- a terrible combination, in his opinion, but Tommy insisted- as he braided one in various shades of blue. Before long, Tommy was smiling as David tied the blue bracelet on for him. 

“Can I put yours on for you?” Tommy asked hopefully. David swallowed back a grimace, internally shuddering at the idea of sporting the garish colors. 

“How about this,” he suggested carefully, digging into his supply cabinet. “I’ll put it on a keychain. That way I’ll have it with me all the time.” Tommy considered this for a moment, then nodded resolutely. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

David helped Tommy attach it to the keychain, and watched him as he happily skipped out the door at the end of class. 

“That was really sweet. What you did for Tommy.” The rest of the campers were clearing out noisily, heading to the mess hall for lunch. David looked up to see Patrick leaning against the desk, watching him as he put the bracelet supplies away. He shrugged, feeling his face flush. 

“It was nothing. He’s a sweet kid, just doesn’t have many friends.”

“Ah. So you can relate.” 

“Okay,” David said defensively. “Not everybody can be Mr. Popular, homecoming king, star circleback or whatever-”

Patrick snorted. “The term is quarterback, and that’s football, which I didn’t play. And I was  _ prom _ king, not homecoming king.” 

David narrowed his eyes at him, clocking the teasing edge to his voice.

Patrick smiled at him shyly, sliding something across the desk towards him, hidden under his palm. “I’ll save you a seat at lunch, Sunshine. Better hurry, though- don’t want those tater tots to get cold.” Patrick lifted his hand, winking and quickly turning to leave the room before David could react to the fact that Patrick had just slid a braided black-and-white bracelet towards him. The pattern was simple, and David hadn’t worn any jewelry not made with precious metals since his own camp days, but he felt warmth blossom in his chest as he slid it into his pocket, unable to keep the smile from breaking across his face.

* * *

“Hey,” David found Patrick sitting at the firepit later that night, the fire burned low to the ground and the stars burning bright overhead. 

“Hey yourself.” Patrick scooted over on the log he was occupying, making room for David next to him. 

David cleared his throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he sat down. “Thanks for the bracelet earlier.”

Patrick laughed, shaking his head and waving a hand. “It was nothing, David.”

David fished the bracelet of his pocket, holding it out in front of him. “Will you put it on for me?”

“David, stop. I saw the look on your face when Tommy tried to get you to wear his. You don’t have to wear it, I was just messing around. It’s cheesy.” 

“Hey,” David bumped into Patrick’s shoulder with his own before holding his wrist out. “No insulting my bracelet. My best friend made it for me.” Patrick took the bracelet from him, eyeing him warily as if waiting for David to break, to admit he was joking. David just raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Patrick smiled, taking David’s hand and placing it palm-up on his knee so he could tie the plasticky gimp strands together. 

“Besides, did you  _ see  _ the colors Tommy picked out? It’s like he doesn’t even know me,” David sniffed. Patrick laughed, finishing with a flourish, tying the ends of the bracelet into a neat little bow. 

“Not too tight, is it?” He ran a finger under the bracelet and across the sensitive skin of David’s wrist, checking for the fit. David shivered involuntarily, then shook his head. “Nope. It’s perfect.” 

They settled into a comfortable silence as the fire burned lower, and soon the only sources of light were the moon and stars above them. 

David could never recall a time in his life when he was afraid of the dark. From the time he was young, Adelina would take him and Alexis out to the backyard after nightfall to watch for shooting stars. She would point out constellations, telling them about the lore behind them, the meaning behind their names. It was information David retained, for some reason, remembering the shadow of her hand in the darkness, pointing skyward, the complicated names rolling effortlessly off her tongue. 

“That’s Cassiopeia,” David murmured to Patrick, their fourth summer together as campers, gesturing at the wonky W shape in the sky. “Named after a queen. She was incredibly arrogant and vain.”

Patrick snorted, and David smacked him lightly on the chest with the back of his hand. “I guess you’re going to say that’s my constellation?”

“No, no. That one, there. That's Davidus Rosus.” Patrick pointed to a bright orange star located below Ursa Major. 

It was David’s turn to laugh. “That’s Arcturus, and it’s part of the constellation called Bootes.”

“Nope,” Patrick responded, sounding confident and sure in the way only a clueless preteen boy could. “That’s your star.”

“Okay,” David indulged him. “Why is it my star?”

“It’s brighter than the rest of them. It stands out.” 

Young David was quiet then, a feeling taking root in his chest that he wouldn’t recognize until years later. It was the feeling of being recognized, of being  _ known _ , and it was earth-shattering. 

A couple of years later, retreating to his backyard after his first real heartbreak- finding his homecoming date in a dark corner with someone else- David found himself looking to the sky. 

“Draco,” he murmured, drawing a shaky breath as tears gathered in the corner of his eye. “Cepheus. Cygnus. Hercules. Lyra. Bootes.” He’d wished Patrick was there with him, knowing he’d have words of encouragement and comfort like he always had. 

They sat together now, and David felt that same warm feeling of recognition settle into his chest as Patrick pointed up at Arcturus, a small, knowing smile on his face. It had been the best summer David could remember having in a long, long time.


	2. Summer Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get angsty, folks. I promise things will be okay, but if you don't like uncertainty or cliffhangers, you may want to wait until the next chapter is posted to catch up.

David was eager this time as his cab trundled towards camp, his heart beating a little faster with every mile that passed. 

He and Patrick had kept in touch through the school year, exchanging e-mails complaining about their roommates and commiserating over studying for midterms. They’d talked about meeting up, first over Thanksgiving, then Christmas, but it never quite worked out, and David couldn’t wait to see him. 

He didn’t see Patrick at registration, so he headed toward the cabin they’d shared the previous summer. He spotted Patrick through the screen door, folding his clothes into their shared dresser, and smiled to himself as he pulled the door open. 

Patrick’s head whipped towards the sound, and a grin broke across his face as he crossed the room towards him. 

“David! It’s good to see you,” he said, pulling David into a hug. 

“You, too.” They lingered in the embrace for a moment, until they were startled apart by the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

A figure had materialized in the doorway of the cabin, and David blinked, tilting his head, trying to make what he was seeing add up. 

“David,” Patrick said, his voice sounding strange in David’s ears. “You remember Rachel.”

David remembered little Rachel, a sweet-faced redhead with freckles and pigtail braids and knobbly knees. This Rachel was grown up and gorgeous, still petite but most definitely a woman and not a little girl. Time had been just as kind to her as it had to Patrick, if not kinder. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she was just standing there, smiling radiantly, expectantly, and of course she was, because David was just staring instead of saying anything. 

“Yes! Rachel! Hi!” David’s enthusiasm sounded forced and fake even to himself, and he refused to look directly at Patrick, able to see the uncertain look on his face from the corner of his eye. 

Rachel stepped toward him, reaching up to pull him into a hug. 

“It’s so great to see you again! Patrick has talked about you nonstop all year, catching me up on everything! Last summer sounded like so much fun I decided to join you guys this year.”

“Oh?” David’s voice went high as he finally chanced a look at Patrick, whose face was flushed as he awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. Rachel looped one arm through one of Patrick’s, looking up at him adoringly. They looked so  _ right _ together, complementary. They were even dressed similarly, in their denim shorts and wholesome cotton t-shirts. 

“Did you ask him yet?” Rachel asked Patrick eagerly, and Patrick’s face went pale, and David’s stomach sank for reasons he wasn’t sure of yet. 

“Ask me what?” David was trying- and probably failing- to keep a friendly, curious smile on his face. It felt more like a grimace, dread gripping his heart like a vise. 

“No, Rach, I...hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about it yet.” Patrick’s voice was tight somehow, and he was looking everywhere in the room except for David. 

“Well what are you waiting for, P? Ask him!” Rachel was practically vibrating with excitement, looking back and forth between David and Patrick. 

“Okay, sure. Um.” Patrick took a deep breath, fixing a smile on his face, the rest of his words rushing out on the exhale. “Rachel and I are getting married and I want you to be my best man.” 

David felt his heart beating in his ears, a rush of air leaving his lungs. His brain screeched to a halt as Patrick and Rachel looked at him, Rachel beaming expectantly and Patrick chewing his bottom lip anxiously. 

Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to clear it, David swallowed past the dryness in his mouth and attempted to respond. “Well, that is just...so exciting for the two of you. And you want me to be in the wedding? Wow!” David cringed internally at the sound of his voice, praying it hadn’t come across as sarcastic. “I will definitely think about it and um. Let you know. If that’s okay.” 

Patrick nodded, his eyebrows knitted together as he averted his gaze, and David rushed to smooth over the awkward answer. 

“It’s just. With school, and my family’s money situation, I don’t want to make that kind of commitment without thinking it through. I don’t want to, um. Let you down. Or disappoint you.” 

Rachel and Patrick both smiled at him then, although Patrick’s seemed forced and didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Of course!” Rachel assured. “Completely understandable.” She looked at Patrick then, tugging gently on his arm. 

“Want to come help me unpack?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a second.” Rachel leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before heading for the door. 

“See you at dinner, David!” 

“Mmmhmm!” He agreed, forcing enthusiasm as he turned back to the suitcase he’d dropped on his bunk. 

Patrick was still standing in the middle of the cabin, motionless, and David could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull. 

“Is something wrong, David?” he finally asked. 

_ Yes _ , David thought.  _ Something is very wrong. You’re engaged to a girl you just told me last summer you were too young to commit to. You looked like you’d just swallowed a razor blade as you told me about said engagement. And you just asked your lovesick best friend to be the best man in your wedding to this girl _ . 

Pushing those thoughts aside, David fixed a smile to his face. 

“I’m just a little tired. Long cab ride from the city, you know.” He waved a hand noncommittally. 

“Okay,” Patrick nodded as he headed towards the door, and David could tell he didn’t believe him. “I’ll see you at dinner?” 

“I’ll save you and Rachel both a seat,” David confirmed. 

As soon as the door closed behind Patrick, David collapsed miserably onto his bunk, laying there until the dinner bell rang, mind reeling as he tried to keep his heart from shattering apart. 

* * *

David’s least favorite parts of preparing for campers at Tamarack were the teambuilding exercises the counselors had to endure at the start of each summer. They were always miserable, usually physically exhausting, and never something that played to David’s strengths. 

This year, the chosen brand of torture was a ropes course. There were few things that sounded less desirable to David than being strapped into a harness and climbing ladders and balancing on beams 30 feet in the air, but unfortunately the exercise was mandatory. 

He sulked all morning, half-heartedly dressing in clothes he didn’t mind breaking a sweat in. 

Patrick, too, seemed moody, looking dejected and tired as they headed towards the bus for the excursion. He was looking around, probably scanning the crowd for Rachel. David scuffed his shoe in the dirt sullenly, pondering who he’d end up partnered with since Patrick would inevitably choose Rachel. 

Rachel still hadn’t shown up by the time they started to climb onto the bus. Just as David was sliding into a seat in the back, Patrick’s phone chimed with a text alert, and he looked at the screen with his brow furrowed. 

“Shit,” he murmured. “Rachel has poison ivy, she can’t come.” David couldn’t help but notice Patrick didn’t actually seem that disappointed by the news, and tried to tamp down the excitement he felt blooming in his chest at the realization he got an entire Rachel-free day with Patrick. 

“Will you be my partner then, since she’s out?” Patrick looked up at David, a hopeful smile on his face as he slid into the seat next to him. David rolled his eyes, ignoring the line of heat where Patrick’s thigh pressed against his own. 

“As if I’d partner with anyone else for this thing unless forced.” 

The ropes course park was about an hour’s drive away, and they spent the time huddled over David’s phone, sharing earbuds and arguing over their roadtrip playlist. David teased Patrick about his preferences for what he called “lame dad music,” and extolled the talents of icons like Tina Turner and Beyonce and Adele. 

“I just prefer, you know. Songs that convey real emotion. Love. Heartbreak. Anger.”

Patrick scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, because Bob Dylan never wrote any love songs, or songs about heartbreak or anger.” 

David rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, but, does he have to be so  _ whiny  _ about it?” 

Patrick opened his mouth to respond just as the bus screeched to a halt. “This conversation isn’t over, Sunshine.” 

David grinned, following Patrick off the bus to where tables were set up, piled high with helmets and harnesses and knee and elbow pads. 

“Have these been sanitized between uses?” David asked the bored-looking employee who was overseeing the equipment. 

She shrugged noncommittally. “I guess so,” she said. Patrick snorted, and David narrowed his eyes at him before selecting the cleanest-looking pieces of equipment he could find. 

“Ugh. This helmet is going to ruin my hair,” David groaned, snapping the buckle beneath his chin. 

Patrick smirked, reaching up to knock lightly on the top of David’s helmet. “Well I think you look  _ very  _ cute,” he joked, and David felt like his insides were squirming even though he knew Patrick was just teasing. 

Twenty minutes later, David’s insides were squirming for a different reason entirely, as he stood completely frozen on a wobbly wooden platform 30 feet in the air. The slightest move he made caused the contraption to swing wildly, and although he knew logically that the harness and ropes would prevent him from falling to his death, convincing his feet to continue moving forward was proving impossible. Most of the counselors had gone ahead to continue the course, and he and Patrick were rapidly falling behind. 

“Okay, David, just hang on. I’m coming to you.” Patrick called from behind David, where he was waiting his turn.

“No!” David snapped. “You’ll throw us off balance and I’ll fall.” 

“David,” Patrick said evenly, his voice growing closer. “I’m not going to let you fall.” 

The platform did swing slightly, and David squeezed his eyes shut and clung to the rope, jumping when he suddenly felt Patrick’s warm breath at the back of his neck. He was murmuring encouragement as his hand slid to rest lightly at David’s waist, holding him steady. 

“Okay, Sunshine,” David rolled his eyes at the laughter in Patrick’s voice, but felt an embarrassing amount of relief with his steady presence at his back. “One foot in front of the other. I’ve got you.” 

David did as he was told, and they moved in tandem, balancing their weights to keep the obstacle steady until they finally reached the next checkpoint. David collapsed against the tree in relief, and Patrick clapped him on the back. “Good job, buddy. You did it.”

“Okay,” David said defensively, turning to look at Patrick, his chest heaving from exertion. “Don’t be condescending.” 

Patrick smiled, his expression turning overwhelmingly sincere. “Hey, no. I’m being serious. I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you,” David said quietly, attempting to tuck his smile away before it gave away just how pleased he was. 

* * *

“I think we should celebrate my bravery and our teamwork properly,” David said later that night, rummaging around in his suitcase once they’d returned to the cabin after dinner. They’d both showered and changed into their pajamas, and Patrick was sprawled lazily across the couch. 

“A- _ ha!”  _ David turned to Patrick triumphantly, joint pinched between his fingers, lighter tucked into his palm. 

“Is that- David did you bring  _ marijuana  _ to a children’s summer camp?” Patrick whispered frantically, eyes comically large. David bit back a laugh, pressing his lips together. 

“Relax, Boy Scout. Half the kids here probably have pot on them.” Patrick eyed the joint warily as David wiggled it. “Are you going to join me or are you going to sit there judging me all night?” 

Patrick worried his bottom lip between his teeth while David flicked his lighter impatiently, eyebrows raised. 

“Fine,” Patrick muttered, reaching out and plucking the spliff from David’s fingers. David laughed, delighted by this development, and joined Patrick on the couch, Patrick’s socked feet tucked beneath David’s thigh. 

They sat on the couch for awhile, smoke curling around them lazily. David couldn’t help but stare every time Patrick pulled at the joint between his lips, which David found unbearably sexy even as he coughed the first few times. Patrick seemed to watch him carefully, too, and David felt himself sinking into it, could easily picture himself chasing the taste of smoke on Patrick’s tongue, until Patrick complained that his feet were falling asleep. The moment broken, they unsteadily made their way to David’s bunk. 

They wound up flat on their backs, side-by-side across David’s bed, feet planted on the floor. 

David was zoned out, barely listening to Patrick rambling on about something, or everything, or nothing in particular, when a thought occurred to him. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée, nursing her back to health, instead of getting high with me?” Patrick was quiet for a moment, before David was startled by a bark of laughter bursting out of him. 

“Probably,” he murmured. “But I don’t think I want to.” 

David snorted inelegantly. “I don’t think that bodes well for your future marriage.” Something in the back of his brain told him he probably shouldn’t say things like that, but it was a distant and unimportant little voice, easily ignored. 

“Oh  _ god,”  _ Patrick moaned, slapping a hand over his face. “I’m getting  _ married. _ ”

David turned his head toward Patrick and blinked at him blearily. “Ew. You’re not one of those people who get annoyingly paranoid when you get high, are you?” 

“I don’t know,” Patrick mumbled, his words muffled by his hands still covering his face. “I’ve never been high before.” 

“ _ What?”  _ David asked, incredulous. 

Patrick then turned his head toward David slowly, as if he were moving underwater. He stared at David for a moment, then furrowed his brow. “What what?” 

Everything was hazy, and David had completely lost track of the conversation they were having. 

“Wait. Why are you asking  _ me _ ‘what’?” 

Patrick shrugged, an awkward, aborted movement in his current position. “I can’t remember.” And then he smiled at David, his brown eyes dark and glassy, and David laughed, and tipped his head back, closing his eyes and focusing on the bittersweet smell of smoke lingering in the air, and the gentle sound of Patrick breathing beside him. 

* * *

It was an unbearably hot day, the kind where the air is so thick with humidity that it feels like trying to breathe through a wet towel, and David was desperate to seek respite in the cabin, with its anemic-sounding window air conditioner and dimly lit interior. 

He trudged up the steps and was about to open the screen door when he heard music floating towards him. Cupping his hands to the window so he could see inside, David spotted Patrick perched on the arm of the tattered couch, his back to the door, plucking at his guitar and singing softly. 

_[If not for you, ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0bTY3EvTFLdPALso8E7Eyq?si=wLMbMDFNQbWx0wabcbtMGw) my sky would fall _

_ Rain would gather, too _

_ Without your love I'd be nowhere at all _

_ I'd be lost, if not for you _

David opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside unnoticed, leaning against the bunk to watch Patrick. He seemed so soft, somehow, both more vulnerable and more at-ease than David was used to. 

David had watched, as summer progressed, the way Patrick gradually became wound tighter and tighter like a spring. His joyful, easygoing friend seemed to have turned in on himself, his laughter no longer reaching his eyes. 

David couldn’t help but notice the way the muscle in Patrick’s jaw would jump, teeth clenched, every time Rachel brought up the wedding over breakfast or around the campfire in the evenings. She’d ask Patrick his opinion and he would smile blandly and tell her it was up to her. “Whatever makes you happy,” he’d say, and she would smile and kiss him, and David would force himself to look away. 

For a moment, there in the cabin, unaware he was being watched, Patrick looked like his old self, his shoulders loose as one bare foot tapped on the splintery hardwood floors in time with the music. 

Patrick strummed a few final notes, and David gave him a polite golf clap for his efforts. Patrick spun to face him, his cheeks flushed and a startled expression on his face. 

“ _ Jesus, David!  _ You scared the shit out of me,” he complained, one hand clutching his chest in fright. 

David grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t at all. “You just...you sounded really good, and you’ve never let me listen to you play before and I didn’t want you to stop.” The words came out in a rush, and suddenly David felt like a voyeur. 

“Sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” 

Patrick waved him off, the color of his face returning to normal as he puttered around, putting the guitar away. “That’s okay. I need to get used to playing in front of an audience if I’m going to play at the talent show this year.” 

David nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, you sound great. And that’s such a sweet song. Did you write it?”

Patrick barked out a wheezy laugh. “No, David, I did not. You just admitted that you like a Bob Dylan song.”

David gasped, scandalized. “That was  _ not  _ a Bob Dylan song!”

“Oh, it definitely was.” 

“Ugh,” David groaned. “Fine. He has one good song, I guess.”

“Just the one, huh?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t actually know,” David sniffed. “I’ve never listened to him on purpose.” 

At this, Patrick laughed again, shaking his head. 

“Anyway, I’m sure Rachel will be incredibly impressed by you at the talent show. She might just try to drag you down the aisle before summer’s over.” 

Patrick looked up at David from where he was knelt on the floor, snapping his guitar case shut. His mouth was open slightly, an odd expression on his face. But then the moment passed, and Patrick shook his head as if trying to clear it, then nodded. “Rachel, yeah. She loves Bob Dylan.” 

David nodded, mentally adding this to the list of reasons Patrick and Rachel had to be right for each other. Other items on the list included their shared love of hiking, interest in team sports, and generally easygoing personalities- none of which were qualities David possessed. 

It wasn’t that David didn’t like Rachel- he  _ did,  _ honestly. She was funny and quick-witted, sarcastic without ever being unkind. It was a rare personality that could keep up with the banter that he and Patrick so easily volleyed, but she kept up effortlessly. She and Patrick made sense together in a multitude of ways. But something kept nagging at the back of David’s mind- the tension in Patrick’s shoulders last summer when David had joked about them getting married. The set to Patrick’s jaw when he’d return from her cabin late at night. The feeling of unease gnawed at David’s stomach as the summer progressed, knowing he’d have to make a decision sooner than later about whether to stand next to Patrick as he married a woman who, at the end of the day, was perfect for Patrick on paper but didn’t actually seem to make him very happy. 

* * *

The counselor talent show was, as usual, the last night of camp. David sat with Rachel, having made plans with her and Patrick to meet up afterwards for the farewell bonfire. They sat through a few painfully awkward presentations, including a seemingly interminable set of Ted doing magic tricks and making puns. Finally, Patrick took the stage, guitar already strapped to him and looking sheepish. 

He sat on a stool onstage, eyes scanning the audience before he cleared his throat. “This song is for someone special,” he murmured, his dimple popping as he smiled. 

“Ugh,” Rachel groaned as Patrick began strumming the now-familiar tune. “He’s doing this to annoy me. He knows how much I hate Bob Dylan.” 

David furrowed his brow in confusion, opening his mouth to respond, remembering that Patrick had said Rachel loved Bob Dylan, but then he caught sight of Patrick’s face. 

He wasn’t wearing the expression he normally would when he was purposely being an aggravating little shit, a look with which David was intimately familiar. There was no twinkle in his eye, no mischievous tilt to his mouth. 

His eyes were big and wide and utterly sincere, and David ached at the sight of him. 

_ If not for you _

_ Babe, the night would see me wide awake _

_ The day would surely have to break _

_ It would not be new, if not for you _

It was a slower version of the song, Patrick’s voice like warm honey, rich and full and sweet. David could feel it in his spine, his toes, catching at the back of his throat. Briefly, David allowed himself to live in a fantasy world in which Patrick was singing the song for him, pretended just for a moment that the love and affection and sincerity were aimed at him instead of Rachel. 

He glanced over at her, and her expression was a mix of annoyance and adoration, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. He would never be able to stand in front of everyone at their wedding, keeping his emotions in check while Patrick and Rachel declared their love for each other. He  _ wanted  _ to, wanted to be a good enough, selfless enough friend to Patrick to be able to do that. But he couldn’t, and suddenly he couldn’t even stand being in the same room, watching as Patrick poured his heart out onstage in front of all their friends. 

David excused himself, nudging Rachel and telling her he had to leave before heading back to the cabin. She nodded distractedly, a reluctant smile breaking out into her face as she focused her attention on her fiancé singing a love song for her by an artist she apparently hated. 

David went back to the cabin, figuring he’d get a head start on packing up. He had to tell Patrick eventually that he didn’t want to be his best man, and he needed to figure out a way to do so without having to explain why. 

He was lost in thought, weighing his options, when he was startled out of his reverie by the sound of the cabin door creaking open. 

“Hey,” Patrick said quietly. His expression was difficult for David to parse. He looked...nervous, maybe, chewing his bottom lip uncertainly. 

“Hi,” David smiled weakly, turning to grab his toiletries out of the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you be at the bonfire?”

Patrick followed him, leaning up against the door frame and clearing his throat. “Shouldn’t  _ you  _ be at the bonfire? Did you even catch any of my set?” 

David squeezed his eyes shut, grateful that his back was to Patrick. “Um. Yep. I caught most of it but I wanted to get a headstart on packing. So. I left.” 

“Oh.” It was quiet for a moment, the only sounds the gentle clinking of David’s bottles of product as he took them off the bathroom counter and sorted them into his bag.

But then Patrick sighed, and David couldn’t help but turn to look at him. “Look, David, I know you said at the start of summer that you needed some time to think about the wedding, and I- I’ve tried to respect that. I was just hoping to get an answer before we leave tomorrow.” Patrick had his hands shoved down into his pockets as he often did when he was nervous or feeling unsure of himself. 

“Right. I just, um. Isn’t there someone else you’d rather have as your best man? A cousin, or something?” David tried to keep his voice casual as he squeezed past Patrick to leave the bathroom, heading back towards his open suitcase on his bed. 

“No, David. There isn't. That’s why I asked you.” There was an unfamiliar edge to Patrick’s voice, one that made David even more uneasy. They stood in silence for a few moments, David studiously refolding his clothes into his suitcase. 

“What happened to feeling like you were too young for that kind of commitment?” David finally asked, his words clipped as he snapped his suitcase shut. He was trying to keep his voice level, all too aware of Patrick’s gaze on him, steady and solid. David was terrified of what Patrick might see if he looked at him too closely. 

“If you don’t want to be my best man, you can tell me,” he said softly, avoiding the question. “I just don’t understand why-”

“I’m in love with you,” David blurted, cutting Patrick off and immediately squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You. You’re. I’m sorry. What?” Patrick’s voice sounded strained. 

David forced himself to open his eyes. Patrick’s expression was inscrutable, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he were winded, and David wished he could take it back, but the words were already out, hanging heavily in the air between them. He might as well lean into the moment and get it all out. 

“Patrick,” he said softly, a sad smile on his face as he looked everywhere but into Patrick’s big, warm, unbearably kind eyes. “I have loved you since I was eight years old, ever since you saved me from that stupid moth in our bunk.” He let out a helpless sort of laugh, shrugging one shoulder apologetically. “I tried not to. Or at least, I tried to love you- differently? The right way. As- as a friend. And I do, Patrick, I do love you as a friend, first and foremost.” 

He was desperate to make that clear to Patrick, to make him understand. “But also more than a friend should. And I’m sorry.” Patrick remained silent, and David felt the urge to fill the space with words, to relieve some of the frantic energy building in his chest.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. And I think- Rachel is great. But I don’t know that I believe being with her is going to make you as happy as you deserve to be.” David swallowed, finally allowing himself to ask the question he’s been biting back all summer. “Are you sure this is what you want?” David chanced a look at Patrick, and found him gaping at him, his face flushed. 

“I- yeah. I mean, yes.”

David nodded, ignoring the way it felt like the bottom of his stomach dropped out. “Okay. Good. Then I— I want that, for you. But I don’t think...” He took a deep breath, willing his breathing to even out, willing the tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eye to stay put. “I don’t think it would be good for either of us for me to be your best man with how- um. Considering my feelings.” 

Patrick looked wounded, the expression on his face so puppy-like that David would find it adorable if it weren’t so heartbreaking. 

“I’m, um. I’m going to see if I can bunk...elsewhere tonight. I think that would be for the best. So.” David slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up his suitcase, heading for the door.

“David, wait-” Patrick began, but David shook his head, unable to bear hearing whatever it was Patrick had to say. 

“Good luck with the wedding planning, Patrick. I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful day.” 

David left, the screen door clanging in his wake, and the next morning he headed back to the city, desperate to put this god awful summer behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Patrick sings at the talent show is "If Not For You" by Bob Dylan.


	3. Summer Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy (?) reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget, there’s [a companion playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/70Qq86aV6b1K4JeiFejDCv?si=3F_j6E4fS_GFreNzIZQxwA) for this work!

Somehow, the school year had been even worse than the previous summer, which David genuinely didn’t think was possible. He failed one of his classes, which meant he wasn’t able to graduate on time and had a course to finish up in the fall. On top of that, it had been an incredibly lonely year for David. An ill-advised hookup with Stevie after they’d both gotten high had almost caused their friendship to implode. David slept with her in an attempt to feel something again, not realizing that Stevie was already feeling a lot of things for him. She said she was over it, but things still weren’t completely back to normal when they’d parted ways for the summer. 

He’d arrived at the last minute for registration, hoping to avoid Patrick for as long as possible. Unlike the previous year, they hadn’t kept in contact throughout the school year between summers. David ached with the knowledge that it was very likely their friendship had been damaged beyond repair with his admission at the end of last year. But David knew he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t told him. Thinking of Patrick was like prodding at a bruise, or poking at your gum line where a tooth had just fallen out; it was painful, but David couldn’t stop himself from doing it, checking periodically to see if it still hurt. After dropping his bags in their usual cabin, David made a beeline for the art room in the rec center, busying himself by sweeping the floor and tossing out dried-up paints, attempting to expel the nervous energy buzzing in his limbs. When the dinner bell rang, David steeled himself, certain he couldn’t avoid Patrick any longer. But when he arrived in the mess hall, Patrick was still nowhere to be seen. David picked at his dinner, a pit of anxiety in his stomach, head snapping towards the door every time it swung open. But he never showed up. 

As David readied himself for bed that evening, alone in the cabin he and Patrick had always shared, he was worried that he’d done even more damage than he’d considered possible. Had Patrick been so shaken by his admission that he decided not to come to camp this year at all? 

David spent the next two days wandering aimlessly around the camp in between orientation sessions. He spent time with Ted and Mutt, barely following their conversations while trying to ignore the aching in his gut. Ted kept looking at him sympathetically; it was his cabin David had slept in that last night the previous summer, curled up on the tattered couch, and although David didn’t tell him what happened, he seemed to know it had something to do with Patrick from the way he asked if he’d heard from him. 

The day before campers were set to arrive, David found himself in the art room again, rearranging supplies and mapping out which activities he’d be doing through the summer. He was bent over the desk, flipping through his notes from the previous summer, muttering to himself. 

“Hey.” David’s head snapped towards the door at the sound of a familiar voice, heart pounding in his chest. Patrick was leaning in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. 

“Hi,” David replied softly. Patrick looked even more beautiful than he had the year before, if that were possible. His hair was a little longer, his arms a little more toned. David swallowed, hyperaware of every inch of his own skin feeling tight and flushed. He wanted to crawl out of his own body, project himself into the stratosphere and never have to face Patrick again. But it was a little late for that, and Patrick was staring at him expectantly. 

“So,” David began carefully, arching an eyebrow as he turned to rearrange paintbrushes, hoping his voice didn’t sound as falsely light to Patrick as it did to his own ears. “Nice of you to show up. Too busy being caught up in newlywed bliss to come to camp on time?” 

“Uh, well...”Patrick cleared his throat, and David looked up at him. He was still fidgeting in the doorway, looking down. “Not exactly. Rachel and I broke up.” 

“Oh god,” David clapped his hands to his mouth, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-“ 

Patrick waved him away dismissively. “It’s fine, David. You had no way of knowing.” 

“What happened? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, obviously-“

“I didn’t love her,” Patrick interjected, finally looking David in the eye. “Not how she deserved, anyway. Not...the right way.” 

David’s breath hitched as his own words from the previous summer echoed in his head.  _ I tried to love you differently. The right way. _

Surely, it was a coincidence and Patrick didn’t recall the minutiae of that conversation. Not like David, who remembered all of it, painfully well. 

“That’s why I’m late getting here, actually,” Patrick nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “We just broke up a few days ago and I needed to get my stuff out of our apartment.” 

David grimaced, genuinely feeling sorry for Patrick despite his own feelings about him marrying Rachel. “That sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t great,” Patrick laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “But it was necessary.”

There was a beat of silence, interrupted only by Patrick scuffing his shoe awkwardly against the floorboards. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” David asked quietly, selfishly hoping the answer was no. 

Patrick looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head as if changing his mind. “No. Not yet, I don’t think.” 

David nodded in understanding, and Patrick pushed himself off the door frame and perched himself up on the table next to where David was working. 

“So how was your school year? Better than mine, I assume.” 

“Mmm,” David laughed, and the sound was bitter and harsh even to his own ears. “You’d be surprised.” 

Patrick’s forehead creased, his expression concerned. “What happened?” 

David sighed, rubbing his face in his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. He was so  _ tired,  _ suddenly. 

“I slept with Stevie,” he blurted, and when he opened his eyes, Patrick’s face was...strange. His lips were pressed together and a flush was creeping up his neck. “Amazingly, sleeping with one of your best friends to get over the other doesn’t actually work. So, you know,” David continued, his hands waving as he spiraled, unable to stop himself. “I managed to ruin things with  _ both  _ of you within one calendar year.” 

“Hey,” Patrick placed a hand on David’s forearm, his expression serious.  “You didn’t- David. You didn’t ruin things. With us. I’m still here. I still want to- be friends.” 

David swallowed, caught off guard by the welling of emotion in his chest. He had missed Patrick, so badly, more than he’d even been able to admit to himself. 

“Well,” he said thickly. “That’s a relief. I could use a friend.” Patrick smiled at him, and for the first time in months, David felt steady and grounded, like things were going to be okay. 

Later that night, they had settled into their bunks, and it was quiet. They had always done most of their real talking at night, after lights out for the campers, as if their secrets were safer and less frightening when they were murmured into the shadows, hidden from the harsh light of day. The bunk above him hadn’t creaked in quite some time, meaning Patrick was, at the very least, laying still. Despite David always teasing him about it, Patrick didn’t actually snore, so he had no way to be sure if Patrick was sleeping; but still, David felt compelled to tell him how relieved he was that he’d shown up that morning. David didn’t even realize until he saw him that he’d been holding his breath, waiting for confirmation that Patrick didn’t hate him. 

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” David said quietly. Loud enough that Patrick would hear if he were awake, but not so loud that it would disturb him if he were already asleep. 

“What?” Patrick’s voice sounded close as his bunk shifted, and David pictured him rolling to lean on one elbow. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were face to face instead of in separate bunks. 

“When you weren’t here for orientation. I thought that- you were mad at me, or...bothered. By what I had told you. I thought that you wouldn’t come this year and that I would never see you again.” 

There was a beat of silence, then Patrick spoke, his tone incredulous. “David, I thought  _ you  _ were mad at  _ me!” _

“What?!” David gasped, sitting up so quickly he nearly cracked his head on the low bottom of the bunk above him. 

David heard Patrick sigh, then the creak of his bunk before his legs swung into view and he jumped to the floor. 

“What are you doing?” David asked warily, scooting up towards the headboard as Patrick folded himself into a sitting position at the foot of his bed. 

“I prefer to have conversations like this face-to-face.” 

David grimaced. “Conversations like what, exactly?”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at David, just visible in the moonlight streaming through the cabin windows. He seemed on the verge of something, and David could feel the vastness of the moment, almost as tangibly as if they were standing on the precipice of a cliff. But then Patrick broke his gaze, looking down to rub at the calluses on his palm, and the moment seemed to pass. 

“I thought about reaching out to you so many times,” he said quietly. “But you left so suddenly last summer, and I didn’t....” Patrick trailed off, and David opened his mouth to respond, but then Patrick’s eyes snapped up to meet his again, and that intensity was back. “I almost came to see you.” 

“What? When?” 

“Over Christmas break. My bag was packed and in the back of my car. Rachel and I had gotten into a huge fight and you were really the only person I wanted to talk to.” 

“So why didn’t you come?” David’s voice was hardly above a whisper, wavering from the weight of what Patrick was telling him. 

Patrick shrugged. “I figured you needed space, and I wanted to respect that. And considering everything, I didn’t- it didn’t seem fair to come crying to you about my relationship. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.” 

“Patrick, you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything wrong,” David said emphatically. “I’m the one who screwed up.”

“No, you didn’t.” Patrick’s voice was firm, and David examined his cuticles, his ears burning from the memory of walking out last summer and not looking back.

“I mean, I kind of did, actually-”

“Can we just agree that we’ve both been idiots, then?” Patrick asked, interrupting softly, placing a hand gently on David’s calf. David looked up at him, gutted to see Patrick looking at him with a sad sort of smile on his face. 

“I guess so,” David replied. It was quiet for a moment, and David felt pinned under Patrick’s gaze, but the moment was broken when he badly stifled a yawn. He was completely exhausted, and the campers arriving the next morning meant an early wake up call. 

“Goodnight, David.” Patrick laughed and flicked the bottom of David’s foot twice before climbing back up into his own bunk. David turned over, smiling to himself into his pillow, warm with the relief of knowing his relationship with his best friend was, at the very least, salvageable. 

“Goodnight, Patrick.” 

* * *

“What are you reading, David?” 

David looked up from where he sat under the shade of a willow tree to see Patrick sprawled on his back, nestled among grass and flowers like a goddamn Disney Princess, peeking at him from under the arm he had thrown across his eyes. 

“It’s a book of poetry,” he responded, going back to the book in question. It was a late afternoon between camp sessions, and they were spending it lounging in the sun. Patrick had convinced David to make the trek to a nearby creek just beyond the limits of the camp property. The camp itself was on a proper lake, but the beach was rocky and the water was brackish and it was always crowded, either with campers or other counselors or people who owned summer cabins nearby. 

The creek, on the other hand, was clear and cool and quiet, a hidden gem Patrick discovered the previous summer on a hike. David complained the entire way there, naturally, but had been pleasantly surprised when Patrick pulled a picnic blanket and assortment of foods out of his bag. David had quickly dispatched most of the cheese and crackers and was primly settled onto the blanket, book in his lap. 

“Read me something.” 

David scoffed. “Why?”

“I like poetry,” Patrick responded, pillowing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. “And the sound of your voice might put me to sleep. I want to take a nap.” 

David rolled his eyes, but cleared his throat and began to read from the page he was on. 

_ [Come closer. ](http://www.theholybiscuit.org/mixing-bowl-come-closer-by-anis-mojgani/) _

_ Come into this. _

_ Come closer. _

_ You are quite the beauty. _

_ If no one has ever told you that before, _

_ know that right now: you are quite the beauty. _

_ There is joy in how your mouth dances with your teeth _

_ Your mouth is a sign of how sacred your life actually is. _

David glanced at Patrick out of the corner of his eye as he read. His eyes were still closed, his face impassive as the shade from the tree threw dappled sunlight across it. 

_ My heart was too big for my body, so I let it go,  _ David read, the words nearly sticking in his throat. He probably should have picked a different poem. He probably shouldn’t have come with Patrick today. He probably should have never told Patrick he was in love with him, because every day that passed that Patrick knew and acted like nothing had changed was another tiny wound to David’s heart; eventually, even pinpricks can become fatal if there are enough of them. Death by a thousand cuts, and all that. 

_ I see teacups in your smiles, upside down, glowing. your hands are like my heart. Some days all they do is tremble. _

_ I am like you. _

_ I am like you _

_ I too at times am filled with so much fear. But like a hallway must find the strength to walk through it. _

The next time David glanced up at Patrick, as he finished the poem, his eyes were open and trained on David as if he were hanging on every word. For a moment they just stared at each other, and it felt like the entire world was at a standstill, and David hardly dared to breathe. But then the moment passed just as quickly as Patrick suddenly sat up. 

“Wanna go for a swim?”

“I thought you said you wanted to take a nap.”

“I changed my mind.”

David blinked at him. “Okay, well...I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” 

Patrick shrugged, unbothered by this technicality. “We’re wearing shorts.”

“I’m wearing _designer_ shorts, thank you very much. They don’t belong in creek water.” 

Patrick shrugged again, pulling his shirt off over his head. “Suit yourself. It’s hot out, I’m going for a swim.”

“Are you even wearing sunblock?” David called as he started towards the water. “You’re going to look like a lobster.”

Patrick tossed his head back petulantly, rolling his eyes even as he headed back to dig in his bag for sunblock. David pointedly did  _ not  _ watch him, going back to his book as Patrick smoothed lotion over his chest and arms, but next thing he knew, he had dropped down to crouch on the blanket in front of him. 

“Will you get my back, please?”

“Seriously?” David sighed, putting his book down. 

“You’re the one who was so concerned about me getting sunburned!” Patrick said defensively, moving to stand up. 

“Okay, okay. Turn around.” Patrick grinned at him as he turned and sat cross-legged in front of him. “Your shoulders are freckly,” David murmured, drawing a line from one cluster to another with his finger as if playing connect the dots. They reminded him of constellations. 

“Are they?” Patrick asked,turning his head and straining to look at his own back. 

“Mmhmm. No one ever told you that?” 

Giving up on the physically impossible task of turning his head like an owl, Patrick turned to face forward again, shrugging as David opened the bottle of sunscreen with a soft click. “I guess not, no.” 

Goosebumps erupted along Patrick’a skin as David squeezed the sunblock directly onto the top of his shoulders, not bothering to warm it in his hands first. 

“Hey! That’s  _ cold _ ,” Patrick complained. David rolled his eyes, even though Patrick couldn’t see him. 

“You’re such a baby,” he muttered, passing his hand through the lotion to spread it across Patrick’s shoulders, up the back of his neck and down his back.

David swallowed, trying not to linger too long even as he silently admired the gentle roll of Patrick’s muscles under his fair skin, already sun-warmed under his hands. 

Patrick was so goddamn beautiful, David thought, and he didn’t even know it. 

“Okay, you should be good to go,” he said quietly a few minutes later, gently pinching the top of Patrick’s shoulder where it met his neck ( _ trapezius,  _ his brain helpfully supplied, thanks to his high school anatomy class.) Patrick shivered at the touch, shrugging away from it and _ giggling _ , and David loved him in spite of himself. 

He was doing his best to manage it. They’d fumbled through a few awkward days at the beginning of summer, but slowly their silences became less fraught with tension and more comfortable, like they had been before. 

David watched as Patrick swam, his strong arms pulling him against the current of the creek. He would swim upstream, then allow himself to be pulled back down again. He did this over and over again as David watched, the sun dipping lower into the sky. 

“Come on, Sunshine,” Patrick called eventually, flipping onto his back. “The water feels great.” 

David sighed, putting his book down and reluctantly removing his shoes and socks. 

“I’ll put my feet in but that’s it,” he grumbled, picking his way across the sand and pebbles and rocks along the creek’s edge. 

Once he’d settled onto a large rock at the water’s edge, his feet skimming through the icy stream, Patrick paddled over to him, a devilish grin on his face. 

“I don’t know what you’re planning but whatever it is, you better stop,” David warned, kicking water towards Patrick with one foot. Patrick grabbed the offending foot by the ankle, tugging slightly as if to pull David into the water. 

David gasped, hands scrambling for purchase in the sandy soil on either side of him. “Don’t you dare!” 

Patrick laughed, squeezing David’s ankle gently before dropping it back into the water with a splash. Even back in the cool water, David’s skin felt like a ring of fire was on his ankle where Patrick had touched him, the small contact like a branding iron. 

Patrick hauled himself out of the water, collapsing on his back next to David, with his feet still dangling into the creek. Rivulets of water ran down his neck, droplets glistening in the sun and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath. 

It would be so easy, David thought, to lean over him, to brace himself on the ground on either side of Patrick’s head, to kiss him, to run his hands along Patrick’s cool, damp skin. 

He closed his eyes, pushing the image out of his mind, and laid back next to Patrick, for once not caring if sand got in his hair or on his clothes. 

It was enough, he’d decided, to have Patrick in his life again, just as a friend. It would have to be. 

* * *

“So when you go home at the end of summer are you and Rachel gonna get back together for the 12th time?” David meant for it to be a joke, but judging by the look on Patrick’s face, it didn’t quite land. They were sitting alone by the fire, Patrick sitting on a stump across from where David was perched on a picnic table, sitting on the top with his feet on the bench.

They were halfway through the summer, and so far they’d avoided discussing his breakup with Rachel. David had tried to follow Patrick’s lead, but he couldn’t help but notice she was still sending letters on a regular basis, which Patrick read with an impassive, stony expression. Not knowing where Patrick stood on the subject was slowly killing David. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Patrick sighed. “Not this time.” 

Patrick didn’t elaborate, but the expression on his face betrayed the fact that he had more to say on the subject. 

“Is that...how do you feel about that?” David prodded gently, busying himself by opening up packages of chocolate and graham crackers for s’mores. He could feel Patrick watching him, could see his thoughtful look out of the corner of his eye, but knew he needed to wait it out. Patrick rarely said things without thinking them through first. 

Finally, Patrick sighed again, pulling a hand through his hair, curls sticking up wildly in its wake. 

“You know that poem you read earlier? It said something about...at times being fearful but needing to walk through it?” David nodded, quietly murmuring an affirmation, and for a minute it seemed that Patrick wasn’t going to continue this train of thought as he stared into the fire. David watched, mesmerized as the flames danced, casting shadows across the planes of Patrick’s face. 

“David,” Patrick said, his voice urgent but quiet. “I think- I think I’m gay.” 

Immediately, David was taken back to a decade prior, in this same spot, where he’d tearfully told Patrick something similar as they sat around the fire, the sound of their friends’ laughter bouncing in the distance as they played flashlight tag. 

“I don’t just like girls,” he’d said then. “I like boys, too.” He didn’t have the right word for it, not then.  _ Pansexual  _ wasn’t on his radar until well into high school. But it hadn’t mattered. Patrick had shrugged and smiled and said “okay,” and then offered to toast David a marshmallow for his s’more. 

“Okay,” David said quietly, reaching for the bag of marshmallows, methodically assembling a s’more with Patrick’s preferred peanut butter cup filling even as his mind began spinning out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Patrick took a deep, shuddering breath, and then he started talking. 

Patrick talked, and David listened. He talked about how some things never felt right with Rachel. About how he tried, and he tried, and he tried. About how he didn’t think love should feel like a chore. About how he couldn’t imagine working that hard for the rest of his life at something that left him feeling so empty and cold. About how he loved Rachel, but not the same way she loved him. About how he had dreams about guys, about how he drunkenly kissed a friend of his roommate’s during a game of dorm room spin the bottle and thought about it for weeks afterwards, the way it had made him feel more than any kiss with a girl had ever made him feel. About the panic attack he had the day Rachel came home and said her parents wanted to put a deposit down on a venue and that they needed to decide on a wedding date. 

David listened, half hopeful, half terrified, for any sign that Patrick might have feelings for him, that his years spent pining after his best friend may not have been completely unreciprocated. But there was nothing specific, no epic declarations of love, and David refused to be disappointed by it. 

He watched Patrick carefully over the next several weeks, and aside from a few uncharacteristically sheepish grins, nothing really seemed different. And David told himself that it was fine. Just because Patrick now knew that he was gay, he reasoned with himself, didn’t mean he was going to suddenly realize he was in love with David. 

Still, David couldn’t help but pry and tease a bit. One scorching hot day found all the counselors on the docks of the lake, and David caught Patrick’s eyes nearly bugging out of his head when Ted stripped off his t-shirt before cannon balling into the water. 

David snorted, and Patrick narrowed his eyes at him, a flush creeping up his own bare chest and neck. “What?” He hissed defensively. 

David grinned, waggling his eyebrows at him from behind his sunglasses. “See something you like over there?” 

Patrick rolled his eyes, his skin going an even deeper shade of crimson. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” David was unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. “I’m pretty sure he’s not entirely straight if you wanted to take a shot at him.”

Patrick’s expression clouded over, and David suddenly got the sense he wasn’t joking around anymore. “David, that’s not— I don’t  _ like  _ Ted. He’s not my type. He just. You know. Goes to the gym and stuff.” 

David hummed in agreement, lounging back against the chair to take in the view, ignoring the sense of relief he felt flooding his chest. 

* * *

“So,” David said carefully later that night as he leaned in the bathroom doorway, having just finished his abbreviated, camp-version of his skin routine. “Why not date someone like Ted?”

Patrick looked up at him from his spot on the couch, his expression startled. “What do you mean?”

David shrugged, aiming for nonchalant but certain he was missing the mark by a mile. “You said earlier he’s not your type, but I don’t think you should limit yourself. You’re a newly single baby gay. The world is your oyster.” He waved a hand in front of him, demonstrating all the possibilities before him. 

“David,” Patrick rolled his eyes, but his voice was firm. “I don’t want to date Ted. And despite your insistence otherwise I’m fairly certain he  _ is  _ straight.” 

“Okay,” David tilted his head thoughtfully. “What about Jake, then? He’s  _ definitely  _ an open-minded guy.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was pushing the issue. A sad, desperate part of him felt like if Patrick at least dated someone else, he could point to that as a reason they weren’t together. 

“David. No.”

“Okay, but  _ why? _ Nobody’s saying you have to fall in love, just hang out, get some experience-” 

“I like somebody else.” The words burst out of Patrick like he couldn’t control it. His face was beet-red, and he was focusing intently on the calluses on his palms. 

“Oh,” David said quietly. He felt like his stomach had bottomed out, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his low tone matching David’s, a small smile on his face now. “Yeah. And he- he’s funnier, and smarter, and more handsome than either Ted or Jake.”

“Well,” David said archly, pushing himself off the door frame and busying himself by arranging his skin care products on top of their shared dresser. He tried to ignore the jealousy curling low and hot in his belly. All that mattered, he told himself, was that Patrick found someone who made him happy. “He sounds great. You should go for it.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick said slowly. “I guess it’s just—I don’t know if he’s interested.”

“He’d be an idiot not to be interested in you,” David muttered distractedly, now busying himself with his bed linens. When Patrick didn’t respond, David froze as he replayed what he’d just said. He winced, praying for the moment to pass without Patrick picking up on it, or having him change the subject. But then Patrick cleared his throat, and David slowly turned towards him, finding Patrick staring at him from the couch, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, eyebrows sky-high. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat again. “Are you an idiot, David?” 

David swallowed thickly as he squinted at him, trying to wrap his mind around the question. “Yes?” Patrick’s face fell, and David scrambled to clarify, his heart pounding. ”I mean, no?”

Patrick rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, and David flapped his hands in frustration. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that question!”

“Jesus, David,” Patrick sounded exasperated, and was suddenly on his feet, stepping towards him, and before David could process anything else, Patrick’s lips were on his lips, his hand cradling his face. After getting over the initial shock of what was happening, instinct took over and David was kissing him back, and fireworks were going off in his brain and he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack, but if he had to die, at least this was a nice way to go out. 

“It’s you, by the way,” Patrick said as he pulled back, chest heaving slightly. “The guy I like.”

“Mmmhmm, got that, thank you,” David muttered, pulling Patrick back in, almost frantically, kissing across his jaw and down the side of his neck, pulling at his collar to mouth gently at the top of his shoulder.  _ Trapezius,  _ he thought wildly, and started to laugh. It was quiet at first, a chuckle swelling up from deep in his chest, but next thing he knew his entire body was shaking with it and there were tears in his eyes and Patrick was stepping back, holding him at arm’s length, brow knitted in concerned confusion. 

“David? Are you...okay?” David waved a hand, gasping for breath and nodding as he fought to get his laughter under control. Patrick’s expression was changing rapidly from confusion to irritation and finally settled on wary, which was enough to sober David up, finally. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, wiping his eyes and winding his arms around Patrick’s shoulders. “I think I’m just— I’m really happy, Patrick. I’m really fucking happy.”  _ Happy  _ wasn’t even the word for it, David knew.  _ Elated  _ was more accurate.  _ Ecstatic,  _ probably.  _ Euphoric  _ or  _ exultant  _ could be used as well. David could think of a thousand words to describe what he was feeling and it would never be enough. Patrick smiled, kissing him again slowly, and a warmth that had nothing to do with jealousy spread through David’s core, into his fingertips and down to his toes. He sunk into further and further into the kiss, chasing the smile he felt curling the corners of Patrick’s mouth. For all the time David spent imagining this moment, the reality was much sweeter than anything he’d ever dreamt up. 

“Wait,” David pulled away after several long moments, a thought having just occurred to him. It took him a second to clear his head, feeling a bit like he’d just resurfaced after being underwater for a second too long. “Why didn’t you say something before now? I told you last summer that I- how I felt about you.” 

Patrick closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against David’s shoulder, and David was secretly pleased to see Patrick looked just as wild and slightly undone as he felt. “I just- you mentioned what happened with Stevie, about sleeping with her to get over me, and I figured you wouldn’t- either maybe you weren’t interested in me anymore, or that you wouldn’t want to- with me.”

“Mmm, okay,” David pulled back, gently tilting Patrick’s head back to look him in the eye. “I love Stevie, Patrick. I do. She’s one of my best friends. But it’s-- different. Even when her and I were-Well. When we were trying to be more than friends, the way I felt about her never even came close to the way, I um. The way you make me feel. That’s not something a person just...gets over. Even if they want to.” 

Patrick nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Selfishly speaking, I’m kind of glad you didn’t get over me.”

David grinned at him, leaning down to chase that smirk with his lips. “Selfishly speaking,” he said quietly between kisses, “so am I.” 

The next night when they showed up at the farewell bonfire, hands entwined, Ted looked at them with an expression that could only be described as  _ delighted.  _

“Wait,” he says, grinning widely, “did that finally happen?” Patrick just raised his eyebrows, feigning ignorance. 

“Did  _ what  _ finally happen, Ted?” He asked seriously, sliding an arm around David’s waist and planting a kiss on his cheek. David rolled his eyes, failing to keep the pleased smile off his face as he felt his cheeks flush. 

Ted cackled, snapping his fingers and pointing across the fire to Mutt and Jake. “I  _ knew  _ it! You two pay up!” 

Mutt and Jake grumbled, pulling their wallets out and peeling off a few bills apiece, which Ted tucked into his wallet gleefully. 

“You guys  _ bet  _ on whether Patrick and I would get together?” David’s jaw dropped, scandalized. 

“Oh, come  _ on, _ ” Jake drawled, gesturing widey with his cup of beer. “You two idiots have been making googly eyes at each other for the past decade. It wasn’t a bet on  _ whether _ you would hook up, but  _ when.”  _

“I don’t make  _ googly eyes,”  _ David huffed indignantly.

“You kind of do,” Patrick intoned, pinching David’s waist gently, and David elbowed him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side now that we’re da- you know.” David awkwardly corrected course, waving a hand between them, indicating whatever this newfound happy situation was that they found themselves in. “A thing?” 

“Oh, absolutely not,” Patrick flashed a wicked grin, kissing David quickly and darting away to grab him a beer. 

“Okay, well you and your bush-baby eyes have no room to talk,” David called after him, barely containing his own smile. Patrick rolled his (absurdly expressive) eyes good-naturedly, and David watched as he blushed, ducking his head bashfully when Ted gave him a less-than subtle thumbs-up. David felt his own cheeks burn, warmed by more than just the crackling fire.

* * *

They stumbled back to their cabin late that night, kiss-drunk and sleepy and stuffed full of s‘mores and warm beer. Despite knowing he’d regret it in the morning, David couldn’t bring himself to muster the energy it would take to wash the smell of the bonfire off, and simply stripped down to his boxers before pouring himself into his bunk. Patrick followed suit, and David burrowed into his chest, into the space he’d already claimed as his own. 

David felt Patrick’s lips, feather light, press into his hair, then heard a soft snuffling noise. 

Pulling back to look him in the eye, David glared up at Patrick. “Did you just  _ smell  _ me?” he demanded. 

Patrick grinned shyly at him. “You smell like bonfire,” he said defensively. “Am I not allowed to smell my boyfriend?” 

David stilled, feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “What did you just call me?”

Patrick hummed, the blush high on his cheeks betraying his careful nonchalance. “I believe I just called you my boyfriend.” 

“Oh,” David said quietly, nodding as he attempted to keep his face from splitting into a huge grin. “I see. It’s just that I don’t remember you ever  _ asking  _ me to be your boyfriend?” His fingers were nervously rubbing circles across Patrick’s bare sternum, and Patrick gently stilled them by placing his hand over them. 

“David,” Patrick murmured, his eyes wide and sincere, just barely visible in the moonlight. “Will you be my boyfriend?” 

“Mmm,” David hummed as he tilted his head back and forth, pretending to consider it. 

Patrick pulled the hand on his chest to his mouth, kissing David’s fingers, then his palm, before leaning up to press a kiss under David’s jaw. Goosebumps erupted along David’s body and he shivered involuntarily as Patrick’s breath ghosted across his skin. “David,” Patrick said quietly, continuing to press kisses to David’s cheek, his forehead, his nose, crumbling David’s resolve to keep up the joke with every gentle press of his lips. “Say you’ll be my boyfriend. You know you want to.” 

“Do I, though?” David says, a little breathlessly, shivering as Patrick’s lips tickled his earlobe.

“David…” Patrick whined, slumping back against the pillows with a bonafide pout on his face. 

“Okay, okay,” David laughed, unable to keep the grin off his face any longer. “Of course I’ll be your boyfriend, Patrick.”

Patrick grinned up at him before pulling him down, kissing him hard on the mouth. “Thank you David,” he said quietly, stroking David’s cheekbone with his thumb. 

David shook his head, reaching a hand over to card through Patrick’s curls. “Thank you for what? I didn’t do anything.” 

“You made me happy,” Patrick whispered, and  _ oh.  _ David’s heart did a somersault, still unused to this amount of sincerity and honesty and vulnerability on display. 

David thought about all the years of longing and heartache that led them here. He remembered the thrill he felt as a kid, holding Patrick’s hand during games of Red Rover. The warmth that bloomed in his chest when he went home after their first summer together and told Adelina he was going to grow up and marry his friend Patrick, and she’d ruffled his hair told him she’d better be invited to the wedding. The jealousy that rose in his throat like bile as he watched Patrick tuck a strand of hair behind Rachel’s ear at the bonfire. The nebulous guilt sitting heavily in his gut when he kissed Sebastien for the first time, wishing it were Patrick instead. 

Later, David would once again ghost his hands over the freckles on Patrick’s shoulders, silently naming them as if they were stars spilled out across the night sky. 

_ Draco _ , he thought, pressing his lips to a cluster between his shoulder blades.  _ Cepheus _ , just below Draco.  _ Cygnus _ , off to the right.  _ Hercules. Lyra. Bootes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem David reads is Come Closer by Anis Mojgani. He is a spoken-word poet so there are different versions of it, but the one I chose is the printed version in [this book.](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16293344-songs-from-under-the-river) The one linked in the chapter differs slightly. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! An epilogue will be posted in a few days.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end, and so must this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes my longest fic to date. Thank you for reading! And don't forget to check out the [companion playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/70Qq86aV6b1K4JeiFejDCv?si=3F_j6E4fS_GFreNzIZQxwA)
> 
> This epilogue was 100% self-indulgent and an ode to my old neighborhood in Flushing, where I lived when I was going to NYU. If you ever have the chance once it's safe to do so, please go. The food truly is to die for, and I still dream about [the soup dumplings.](https://nanxiangxiaolongbao.com)

* * *

Cold air swept down the escalator, chilling David to the bone as he emerged from the subway station and stepped onto Main Street. He was later than he wanted to be; he hadn’t been able to catch the 7 express train after he’d stayed late after class, clarifying one more time the specifics of his final project with his professor. He _really_ didn’t want to flunk the class again, not when it was the only thing holding him back from graduating. 

He hustled towards the bus stop, catching it just before it departed, and got off just a few minutes later when it stopped at Parsons boulevard. 

Winter had come to New York with a vengeance, and flurries of snow started falling as David walked the final two blocks to his apartment as quickly as he could. 

It wasn’t the spacious live-work industrial warehouse space in Brooklyn he’d dreamed of having when he got into NYU, but David had decided months ago that he wouldn’t trade this- the fourth floor studio he and Patrick were subletting in Flushing for a few months- for anything. The apartment was cozy, even with its creaky radiator and less-than-picturesque view of the fire escape. The neighborhood had incredible food, and although the commute into Manhattan was less than ideal, David had come to enjoy it, using the time to listen to podcasts or catch up on his class readings. At least their building had an elevator and laundry facilities, and honestly, David would have agreed to live on Staten Island (perish the thought!) if it had meant having Patrick with him. 

He opened the door to the apartment, gasping softly and feeling warm all over when he spotted the takeout containers spread across the coffee table. 

“Ooh!” David unwound his scarf from his neck and walked over, peering into the nearest container. “Soup dumplings? What’s the occasion?” He called, loudly enough to be heard over the sound of water he could hear running in the bathroom. 

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open, revealing a billow of steam and a damp-haired, pink-skinned, freshly-showered Patrick, dressed only in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and scrubbing a towel through his hair. 

“Hi,” David said softly, approaching him with his hands outstretched and a grin on his face. 

“Don’t you dare,” Patrick said sternly, pointing a finger at him in warning, backing up a few steps. 

David pouted theatrically. “Patrick,” he whined. “My hands are so cold.” 

Patrick rolled his eyes even as he waved David forward, bracing himself for the chill of David’s winter-cold skin pressed against his warm lower back. He hissed as they made contact, and David could feel the goosebumps erupting beneath his hands as he curled into Patrick, burying his face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like the tea tree and vetiver body wash David had gotten him to start using, the scent clinging to his damp skin. 

“Missed you today,” David murmured, lips pressing into Patrick’s collarbone. Patrick hummed contentedly in agreement, sinking into the contact for a few moments before patting David’s hip and gently extricating himself from his grip, walking to the dresser and pulling on a clean t-shirt. 

“Come on, food’s gonna get cold.” 

“I can’t believe you got me soup dumplings. Nan Xiang?” David asked hopefully as he went to the kitchen to wash his hands and grab plates. 

Patrick scoffed, offended at the implication that he’d ever settle for less. “Of course. Where else?” 

David smiled at him as he settled back into the living room, cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table. Nan Xiang was the first place they’d eaten when they moved to the neighborhood, and had quickly become their favorite place to eat when they decided to treat themselves to takeout. 

“There’s some rice cake and scallion pancake and udon, too,” Patrick nodded towards the stack of containers, and David groaned in pleasure, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I love you so much,” he murmured a moment later, piling noodles onto his plate as his stomach rumbled loudly. Patrick smiled at him fondly, face pink and pleased-looking. He looked at David like that so often that David was certain his expression would freeze that way someday. 

“Are you talking to me or the food?” He teased, eyes glinting. 

“Both,” David shot back after feigning a moment of consideration, causing Patrick to bark out a laugh. 

“Well, I’m glad to know where I stand. Anyway, I thought you deserved dumplings to celebrate the end of your semester.” 

“Hmm,” David shimmied his shoulders noncommittally, slurping up a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t celebrate just yet. I still have my final project to turn in.” 

“I know,” Patrick shrugged. “But still. You’ve worked really hard and I’m proud of you.” 

David squirmed, discomfort with Patrick’s sincerity like a pinprick at the back of his neck even as he murmured a quiet “thank you.” Satisfied that David would accept the compliment without deflecting- something David had been working on since they started dating- Patrick returned his focus to his plate, and David took the opportunity to gaze at him fondly. He was still getting used to it,still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he was allowed to have all of this after once losing so much; that the long, lazy summer afternoons trading soft kisses in the sunshine had faded into late nights studying, eyes burning with exhaustion, Patrick keeping him supplied with coffee and shoulder rubs. 

He’d been pleasantly surprised when Patrick had shyly asked, towards the end of summer, how David would feel if he came with him to New York. His uncle had some connections and was able to get him a temp job keeping the accounts for someone who ran several small businesses while David finished up his last semester. Before Patrick had even had the chance to finish asking the question, David had crashed into him, kissing him breathlessly. 

“Should I take that as a yes?” Patrick had asked when they pulled apart, looking a little dazed. 

“I mean. If you really want to, I could probably be amenable to that.” David had tried to hold back his grin, but he knew Patrick could see right through him. He always had been able to. 

Soon, they would pack up and move to Toronto to be closer to their families. David had secured an apprenticeship at a gallery thanks to one of his professors, and Patrick would start working on his MBA at University of Toronto. Most nights, before they fell asleep, they’d talk about the things they’d do in the coming years. David daydreamed about owning his own gallery, Patrick promising to help him with the bookkeeping on the side while he did consultation work for small business owners. Stevie was in talks to take over her family’s motel business when her aunt retired in a few years, and had already hinted at being Patrick’s first client. When David had introduced them to each other at the end of the summer, he’d worried about their dynamic, and his concerns had been well-founded, as it turned out. But not for the reasons he was expecting; Stevie and Patrick got along incredibly well, but their sharp senses of humor were often used to the detriment of David’s ego. 

Regardless of what actually happened- gallery or no gallery, whether Patrick started a successful consulting business or not- David was content with the knowledge that they would be together, supporting and protecting each other- through thunderstorms and moth attacks and any other obstacles that came their way. 

A million futures stretched out before them, full of possibility. It had been, David decided, a very good year after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've been very slowly working on this all year and I'm glad to finally put it out into the world. This also marks my 20th (!!!) published work. Thanks for all the support and encouragement over the past year or so.


End file.
